Fever
by scarlet.stained.angel
Summary: Clint has a fever and recalls some of his most nightmarish moments concerning Natasha. Natasha also reflects on why Clint brought her to SHIELD. Clint whump. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Note: I know I have another fanfic I should be working on, but I couldn't resist! This is based on a Black Widow/Hawkeye (Natasha Romanoff/Clint Barton) fan art. Only a few chapters. Time frame: a few months before the Avengers Initiative**

Natasha knocked on Clint's door. She could hear him thrashing and groaning, gripped in the agony of a nightmare. Natasha sighed and pushed open the door. She carefully removed all of the knives from Clint's nightstand and then tried to wake him up.

'Clint! Clint!' Natasha ducked the punch that was aimed at her. Clint sat bolt upright in bed panting.

'Tasha? Tasha?' he gasped.

Natasha was next to him in an instant 'Shhhhh Clint it's okay. You're okay.'

Clint was shaking as he slowly rested his head on Tasha's shoulder. Natasha slowly stroked Clint's short sandy hair. It was damp with sweat and Natasha could tell that this nightmare had been a bad one.

Clint whispered 'You know what it's like. Everyone you've ever killed…'

'You know that I do. Clint you're burning up' said Natasha worriedly, putting a gentle hand against his forehead.

'No I'm not. I'm just really cold' Clint said, sounding confused.

'Clint, just try to get some sleep, okay? I'll be right back.'

Natasha slid off the bed and waited till Clint lay back down before pulling the covers back over him. She padded out into the hallway and towards Medical. Having spent so much time in that area of the Helicarrier when Clint was injured, Natasha knew where the supply closets were.

She opened one of them and pulled out a thermometer, a washcloth, some fever pills, and some sleeping pills. She padded back to Clint's room and opened the door.

Walking over to the sink in the bathroom, Natasha wet the washcloth and filled a glass with water. Going back into the room she woke Clint up and said 'Hey I need you to swallow this okay?' as she shook out a fever pill. Clint nodded weakly as he propped himself up 'Okay Tasha.'

Clint lay back down again and said 'Tasha, wait don't leave, please.'

'Clint its okay, I'm not leaving.'

Natasha carefully draped the damp washcloth on Clint's forehead, becoming more worried when she heard him sigh in obvious relief. Clint didn't realize that it was possible to feel hot and cold at once. One minute he wanted to kick all of the covers off, the next he wanted another six blankets.

Natasha waited until Clint drifted into sleep to stick the thermometer into his ear. When the thermometer beeped she pulled it out and looked at the screen. It read out 103.2°F. She bit her lip and looked at the clock. It was only three a.m. She sighed, careful not to disturb Clint who was slumped against the pillows his head dropped against her shoulder.

Clint shifted against Natasha and sighed and muttered something in his sleep.

'_Natasha no. No, no, no, no please…..' Clint pressed his fingers against the small bullet hole trying to ignore the red stain spreading against the white of Natasha's dress. His fingers were starting to get red and slippery from the amount of blood spilling out from the wound. He watched in horror as Natasha's eyes fluttered closed and her breathing slowed to a slight raspy sound. 'Wait Clint, don't leave me. Please….'_

Clint jerked awake, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. 'Tasha!'

'Clint, it's okay. I'm right here!' Natasha said. She watched worried as he swallowed another fever pill and then a sleeping pill. She checked his temperature again.

**Probably only two more chapters after this so stay tuned!**


	2. Chapter 2

'_Tasha, please wake up…please…..'_

Clint jerked awake, soaked in a cold sweat. All he remembered was staring helplessly at Natasha and the small hole leaking red onto his fingers. Clint stared at his fingers, only to realize he was awake and that Natasha was right there and she was fine. He gasped when he felt Natasha's slim, cool hand rest against his forehead for a minute only to be replaced by a cool washcloth.

'Tasha, Tasha I-I-I-' Clint whimpered, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

'Shhhh…its okay Clint' Natasha soothed him, lacing her fingers through Clint's. Their relationship did not depend on contact, and it was usually avoided. They knew Fury wouldn't like it if his two master assassins spent their time kissing instead of working.

Clint's head lolled against her shoulder as he moaned in his sleep, obviously haunted by yet another nightmare. Natasha smoothed his hair, checking her watch. Coulson would be back in a few hours. He would know how to deal with this. She let her mind wander to the events that had occurred in the past few years. Natasha remembered when Clint had found her. She had been on the run, hiding, trying not to care when she met the man who made her rethink everything and start to care.

Natasha had never let anyone stay this close to her before. Everyone she loved had been killed or she had murdered them. She was used to people being taken away from her, used to not being in the same place for more than a month. But now Natasha had been at SHIELD for almost six years with no doubt.

Clint had known she was broken, but he had fixed her. Natasha didn't even think this was possible. Not with all she had been through and done.

"Я хочу улететь  
Чтобы высоко и вниз не смотреть  
И за руку тебя милый мой  
Заберу я с собой…." She whispered to Clint as he slept, trailing her fingers through his short hair. He shifted slightly in his sleep, his fingers curling around her hand. Natasha sighed shifting slightly, taking care not to jostle Clint. She looked at the digital clock on the nightstand; there was only about two hours until Coulson would be back. Clint moaned again and turned, his body shifting against Natasha's. She managed to quiet him, and carefully wiped the sweat off Clint's forehead.

'_I need you to come-Whoa!' Clint ducked yet another roundhouse kick that was aimed at his head. The fiery red-headed girl merely snarled at him and launched another barrage of kicks and punches. Clint neatly avoided all of them, sighing in frustration. He couldn't get enough room to shoot a tranquilizer arrow and the Black Widow was moving so fast, Clint knew he probably couldn't get perfect aim. There was a spray of red blood in the air, which was weird because Clint knew he wasn't bleeding._

Clint was thrashing again, tangled in the sheets. Natasha sighed. Only an hour and a half until Coulson was back. Natasha tilted her head back against the wall, threading her fingers through Clint's. She sighed, positioning herself against the pillows, settling Clint more comfortably against her shoulder.

**Sorry this chapter is so short guys! I also apologize for the delay in posting! Just homework takes precedence over fanfics. Unfortunately. Oh and the italics are where Clint is dreaming, in case you didn't already know! ;-)**


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